


Smell of Brine

by smileybagel



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Marked Ones, Stream of Consciousness, The Void, Vague Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6742642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileybagel/pseuds/smileybagel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corvo will want the Outsider's head for this, she thinks. How amusing.</p><p>Or, Emily is marked by the Black Eyed God.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smell of Brine

This is what Corvo warned her about, she thinks, endless Void stretching out before her eyes. There are picture frames hanging from nothing, and chandeliers from the Kaldwin palace floating freely, pieces of stone ceiling their only handle. In fact, much of the Void Emily sees is ripped from her childhood home, with servants and guardsmen trapped in time, still and immobile as she makes her way through the expanse of Old Magicks.

As she goes, careful not to misstep and always watching the way the stones underneath her feet shift, the scenery changes to run-down slums and waterlogged buildings, reminiscent of the area around the Hound Pits Pub. There's a wall in front of her now, and a doorway from her younger years that she knows led into the pub proper, but when she twists the handle and enters, it falls away from her to reveal billowing drapes of purple and black mist.

All at once, Emily knows three things.

  1. Corvo is going to be furious with the Black-Eyed God
  2. She has been here before
  3. She will be Marked before she wakes



Yes, this is what her father warned her about, with a kind of bone-deep weariness that a veteran of the Void could provide. Oh, Corvo praised the Whale God's powers and kept a shrine in the palace, but only out of respect for the deity, and he never wasted a chance to warn the young Empress of the god's thrall.

"He is fickle," He said, eyes downcast and focused on an old rune. "The Outsider has no qualms when playing favorites and he is quick to change his fancy. Do not fall for his charms like old Vera Moray."

Do not devote every atom of your being to him, Corvo meant, and Emily took this advice to heart.

Yes, she is thankful to the god for providing Corvo with the tools necessary to do what was needed. Yes, Emily has her father alive and safe because of him. And yes, Emily could still be comforted by her mother's voice because of the god. (Morbid though it was, Emily would gently cradle the Heart of the Empress and listen to the soft coos of her mother.)

But Emily knows the dangers of being too thankful, too devoted.

So when the Outsider's shrine appears in her dreams and her Kaldwin Palace fashioned-Void, she knows what to expect and what not to expect.

"Lady Emily," Comes the deity's voice, "Or rather, Empress. It has been some time since I last visited your mind. How does the young monarch fare, I wonder?"

He manifests in a shroud of blackness, wispy tendrils of Void crawling from his form and a scent of seasalt wafting from his person. If Emily were to take Corvo's word for truth, which she does, then the Outsider has yet to age or change his appearance. Boyishly young with black, _black_ eyes that bore into your soul no matter how you look away. His arms are crossed over his chest and his feet never touch the ground, hovering as he is in the Void. Behind him, a whale croons softly.

"My thanks to you, Outsider." Emily bows shortly, reminded of her lessons. "I would not be here without your intervention."

At this, the deity cocks a brow at her and hums, a ghost of a smile on his pale face.

"You flatter me, Empress. But I did not rescue you or free your father. I do not play so pivotal a role in any war. I merely...give gifts and encourage action. What my Marked do with this is entirely up to them to decide. I am no puppet master or grand strategist." The Outsider gestures with his hands, the metal of his many rings reflecting the light of the Void. "And now it is your time to decide, Little Emily. There is a new threat on the horizon, another throne upturned and stolen, and the winds of change howl in the night."

The Outsider waves his hand and Emily feels her flesh burning. With a hiss, she raises her hand to inspect the sigil making itself a home on her skin, magic flowing from it like a river. A briny scent floods her nose, and she does all that she can not to cough in the Outsider's face. It's a familiar scent, one she's known all her life from living in Dunwall, but here in the Void it is overpowering and potent, a reminder of just whose realm she is a guest in.

"Emily Kaldwin," He speaks once more, voice tilting in amusement. "Let us see how long you keep my _fancy_ , as my dear Corvo likes to put it."

There's a splash against her face, icy and sudden, and Emily wakes in her silk sheets, her hand burning with Void magick and a cold sweat upon her brow.

Corvo will want the Outsider's head for this, she thinks. How _amusing._


End file.
